


Kitten

by ZionAngel



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluffapalooza, Kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:18:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1188357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZionAngel/pseuds/ZionAngel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle has come to the conclusion that the Dark One is an absolute kitten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kitten

**Author's Note:**

> SIGH. There’s only so long a girl can go without writing, even if she has to force herself to do it. Especially in the wake of to 2-year Rumbelle anniversary fluffapalooza and Valentine’s Day. So here, have some fluff. Literally.

Belle has come to the conclusion that the all-powerful Dark One, ageless sorcerer feared throughout lands far and wide, is an absolute kitten.

Her family had kittens once when she was a child, a litter born in a warm bed of hay in a corner of the stables.  It was a large litter, but they all survived, even the tiniest of the litter.  The little runt was half the size of some of his brothers and sisters, and when he wasn’t squeezing his way between the others to try to get just a bit of milk, he was being pushed around and frightened by the biggest in the litter.

The little thing quickly learned to use the only weapons he had, biting and scratching and hissing at the others any time they got too close.  Once he was weaned from his mother, he spent all of his time alone, wary of any cat or human that came too close.  Belle, determined little thing that she was, got it into her head that she could teach him to be gentle and loving again.

Her father and the stable hands told her to leave it alone, that some cats simply preferred solitude, and that he would be perfectly happy living out his life chasing mice and sleeping in the rafters.  Belle, however, was not so easily convinced – she had watched the litter from the beginning, after all, and she had seen this kitten’s transformation from quiet and harmless to dangerous and vicious.  She was certain she could teach the little bundle of fluff to be gentle again.

So, she used every trick she could think of to earn his favor, feeding him scraps of beef and lamb from the kitchen, trying to lure him closer with long strands of brightly colored yarn, and trying, again and again, to pet him.  Her efforts earned her many scratches and bites on her hands.  Her papa and the nursemaids fussed terribly as they cleaned and bandaged the cuts, alternately begging and ordering her to leave the cat alone.  Naturally, she refused to do any such thing.

In time, as the kitten slowly grew, he stopped startling and running to hide whenever she came near.  She learned to sit and wait quietly, and let him come nearer to her.  After a while he grew used to her presence, and didn’t seem afraid of her.  She would even say he seemed to enjoy her presence, liked the idea of not being alone all the time.  Eventually, he even began following her around the barn, keeping a few paces behind, but always right there.  She kept up her gentle treatment and kindness, speaking and cooing softly to him, until one day, as she sat reading a book, he cautiously came up to her, and with a slow, gentle hand, she was able to pet him.  It was the first encounter of many, and soon the little fellow grew quite attached to her, desperate for attention and kind affection.

Rumpelstiltskin started out quite the same.  He wore dark dragonhide clothes everywhere, sneering and snarling, posturing dramatically and using his so-called quips to frighten her.  Her every attempt to relate to him, to create something calm and stable between them, was met with harsh, cutting words.  It took her a while to recognize the behavior for what it was, not until after their encounter with the man who stole the wand.

He didn’t push her away when she hugged him that day.  He seemed too stunned to do anything but move, as if he had gone without affection for so long that he had forgotten what the gesture even meant.  But still, he did not push her away.  When she turned back to ask if he was coming, a wholly involuntary smile lit up his face, and she knew that some part of him, deep down, understood the touch and was desperately grateful for it.

That was when she began to reevaluate him.  Her earlier assertion that he must have love in his heart for something other than his power was born out of a stubborn certainty that even the worst of men must have some shred of humanity buried deep in their hearts, and a desperation to find some bit of goodness in him.  But after he spared the thief’s life for the sake of his unborn child, after he reacted so viscerally to her simple kind touches, she began to see him differently.

When he gave her the library, again he was all posturing, as if he really expected her to believe that he saw this as just another room for her to clean and tidy, as if the possibility that she might read one of the books was a mere fleeting thought.  But she could see through the act.  She had seen the crack in his armor, and there is no hiding the man underneath now.  Her suspicions were only confirmed when she touched his hand and he froze, startled that she would willingly touch him again.  His face reminded her exactly of the face the kitten made all those years ago, every time she tried to pet it after being rewarded with a hiss and a scratch the last time.

Once she saw the proof of some tiny spark of goodness in him, of a man thoroughly deprived of tenderness and affection, she resolved to nurture it and show him that he could trust her.  She spoke to him when there were no chores to be discussed, just because, sweetly telling him about the book she was reading or asking him what bit of magic he was working on today.  She smiled at him, just because.  She thanked him when he made some small gesture.  Very rarely, she touched him, briefly and softly, on the arm or shoulder, to show him that she was not afraid.  Those rare touches always made him nervous, but seemed to magically bend him to her will every time.

Like the kitten in the barn, he followed her sometimes.  Other times, if she came towards him, he would get skittish and move away.  Sometimes he smiled and engaged.  Other times he would still hiss and sneer and bare his teeth, trying to scare her away.  Those times, she gave him his distance, but never left him scare her away.  Slowly, he began to let her in, learning to trust again.

Today, in the early afternoon, she finds him cooped up in his tower again, furiously working away at something.  He’s been up here for days, barely sleeping or eating, too focused on his work to care about anything else, and they are both suffering for it.

“Rumple?” she calls, standing at the end of the work table.  “Why don’t you come downstairs and eat something?  Just take a short break?”

He makes a noncommittal grunt, and doesn’t look up from the potion ingredients in front of him.  She comes closer and plucks a jar of herbs away just as he reaches for it.  He looks up at her now, glaring, and she’s quite certain that if he had fur, it would be standing on end now.  “I am _working_ in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Just come down for half an hour and eat.  You’ll feel better and you’ll be able to think more clearly when you come back up.”

He simply glares at her and selects a different ingredient off of the table, going back to his work and ignoring her.  Belle purses her lips, watching him for a moment before making a decision.

She moves closer still until she is standing directly behind him.  She leans in close, rests a hand on each shoulder, and leans around to see his face.  “I made fresh bread and soup,” she says gently, as big, startled eyes stare back at her.  “It smells delicious.  Won’t you please join me?”  She smiles sweetly, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze.

His mouth opens several times as he tries to speak.  “I…” he rasps, swallowing hard and trying again.  “I suppose I should… eat something…”

She smiles brilliantly, letting him see how happy his decision makes her.  She steps back, and he stands immediately, following close at her heel as she leads him downstairs, every inch the kitten eager for affection.


End file.
